


hold the one you love in both your hands

by tinyscienceangels



Category: The AM Archives (Podcast), The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Mutual Pining, jk jk unless??, romcom levels of fluff, what if we pretend to be girlfriends and then just never stop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28804593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyscienceangels/pseuds/tinyscienceangels
Summary: When Mags asks Sam if she'll pretend to be her girlfriend during a visit to an annual flower festival in Mags's hometown, Sam says yes. When the weekend is over, Mags asks if Sam wouldn't mind keeping up the charade a little longer, and she says yes to that too. Sam has long accepted that her feelings for Mags aren't quite as platonic as previously thought, so the longer they keep up the act, the more she dreads the day Mags says she doesn't need her help anymore. Reckless and foolish as it may be, she is falling deeper in love with every passing moment, so Sam decides there's only one option left -- keep making up excuses for why they can't stop, and maybe they won't have to.
Relationships: Samantha Barnes/Mags Densmore
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. i have thought of it all day

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is longer than I expected it to be so we're breaking it into chapters, friends! I don't have any kind of outline or a regular posting schedule for this story planned but will try my best to periodically update as I write!
> 
>   
> Title is from "Thank You" by Bombadil

Sam had never been the most eloquent of speakers, her dialogue full of embolalias –– scattered with ums and okays and you knows –– but even so, when Mags had asked out of the blue whether she’d do her the favor of being her date to an annual festival in her hometown, Sam wished she’d responded with more than a bewildered _what_?

“Sorry, I’ll back up.” Mags said, and with the aid of telekinesis, she gently stirred the straw in her iced coffee. “Every year, my hometown holds this flower festival. With parade floats and a craft fair and everything. My parents have been basically begging me to come back for it this year, and last week I caved and said I would. But then over the phone they said that a _certain someone they know_ had been asking about me, and I didn’t want anything to do with whatever the hell that means, so I may have told them that I have a girlfriend. If you’re not comfortable with it, I get it. It’s a weird thing to ask. But …”

“But?”

“But I could really use the help.” And that was the thing, wasn’t it? Mags trusted Sam to help, no matter how strange the request. That meant something.

As she considered, Sam moved around her own coffee straw, but with no telekinesis, she had it pinched between her index finger and her thumb, and the flimsy plastic collapsed under the pressure. Mags wasn’t just asking her to be her date. She was asking her to pretend to be her girlfriend.

Look. Sam had done a lot of introspection over the past year, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to settle on any labels quite yet, but she knew that how she felt about girls was not the way straight girls felt about girls. And yeah, maybe, perhaps, possibly, she had some not-so-straight feelings for Mags.

Saying yes wasn’t a great idea with that in mind, but Sam also knew she would regret saying no even more.

“Okay,” Sam said, and focused on her breathing. Just because she had better control over her trips didn’t mean she never took one on accident. And disappearing immediately after telling the girl she might like that she wanted to help would not be the best look.

Sam had better control, but she still worried about a lot of things. That was just who she was as a person. If she said yes to this, she wanted to be prepared. “Are there others? Like us?”

“Atypical?” Mags asked. “In my family, no. But don’t worry. They know, and they’re fine with all of it. It’s not a secret you have to worry about with them. I mean, I wouldn’t recommend shouting about it all weekend long, but we can be who we are around the people I care about.”

Sam shifted in her chair, having given up completely on pretending to be occupied with her coffee. The coffee shop they were in was busy enough that Sam knew they weren’t in much danger of being overheard, but still. This was a weird enough conversation without that added layer of stress. “Well that too, I guess. But that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Oh, I get it. You mean queer people,” Mags said, and she lowered her voice too, which Sam appreciated. She wasn’t ashamed –– god no –– it was just a lot. Most of the queer people Sam knew had had things figured out since they were teenagers, but here Sam was, well into her twenties before she’d ever considered that she wasn’t straight. Sam was still adjusting to having these conversations at all, let alone having these conversations when they were centered around herself. “Again, not in my immediate family, but you don’t have to worry. I don’t go home much, but I promise it’s not because I don’t feel safe there. I’d never ask that of you.”

“Okay. Good. I appreciate that,” Sam said. She relaxed a little, but then she felt a bit stupid for assuming. Of course Mags wouldn’t do that to her, and wow, what must Mags think that Sam ever considered otherwise?

“Though, I probably should get this out of the way, a couple of said queer people I know there are exes of mine. It was a long time ago, and I’m still on okay terms with them so it shouldn’t be too awkward, but it is probably best going in knowing that. And I know about your exes, so it’s only fair that I warn you about mine.”

“You say this as if I have multiple exes I need to warn you about. I have one, and he’s not exactly a stranger.”

“I guess you’re right,” Mags said, and looked at Sam right in the eyes. Sam tried her best not to look away. “So you really haven’t dated anyone else since him? I know you’d said you’d never really thought about anyone else, so if you’re still interested and don’t–”

“No, no,” Sam said, cutting off wherever Mags might be dragging that particular train of thought. “Mark and I are friends. He’s basically my best friend, and I don’t think that we were … plus, I’m pretty sure he’s like, ridiculously into Oliver. Mark’s taste in men is, well, let’s call it questionable, but Oliver seems okay. And if he can someday make Mark happy, then I want that for them.” 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to turn this into something sad!”

“It’s fine, really. I’m sure you’ve been wondering, and it’s probably best to know sooner rather than later whether your fake girlfriend is still in love with a guy.” Sam tried to laugh it off, but even she knew that it didn’t sound genuine.

“You know it’s okay if you still like guys, right?” Mags asked, and Sam was surprised by the question. Mags may have been the catalyst to Sam’s continuing journey of her own complicated sexuality, but they’d never really talked about it. “Just because I don’t like them doesn’t mean I like you any less – uh, I mean –”

“I know,” Sam said, wanting to move on immediately before she could even consider drawing her own conclusion about Mags’s stammering. Once Sam dug herself into that hole, she was never coming out, so best to just pretend it didn’t exist.

Mags’s family lived only a few hours outside of Boston, so it wasn’t a long drive, but long enough that Sam did have time to panic. About halfway through, Mags realized she hadn’t thought to fill up on gas beforehand, so she pulled into a gas station, one of those big ones that were half gas station, half fast-food restaurant.

“I think I want to get a drink. Do you want anything?” she asked after filling up the tank.

“I’m fine. Thanks, though,” Sam said. As soon as Mags opened the door to the convenience store, Sam pulled out her phone and called Mark. Sam didn’t typically enjoy phone calls, so usually she’d just text him, but this was more urgent than that. He answered after two rings.

“Hey, Sam. Are you okay?”

“Um, maybe? Remember how I told you that I was going with Mags to this festival thing in her hometown?”

“I think so. Yeah.”

“That part is definitely true, but I may have left some parts out.”

“Like what?”

Sam didn’t speak. She didn’t want to speak. Mark was going to make fun of her for this forever. He’d be nice about it, but he’d still make fun of her.

“Like what, Sam?”

“Like how Mags asked me to come with her and pretend to be her girlfriend?”

“Oh my god.”

“This was stupid, wasn’t it?”

“I mean, yes?” Mark started, but he also hadn’t completed his thought, which was what worried Sam the most. And it turns out, she had been completely right to be worried. “Yes, it was stupid, but also, wow, you must _really_ like her.”

“What?”

He wasn’t exactly wrong, but Sam also didn’t know how he could possibly know that. It’s not like she had ever told him anything. Sure, he knew she liked girls, but it had nothing to do with Mags directly, and everything to do with texting him at 4 am after waking up from a dream where she had been dating a girl and really didn’t mind the concept. And sure, the thought had crossed her mind many times since that conversation with Mags, the one where Mags had picked up on Sam being queer before _Sam_ had picked it up, but vaguely considering it in theory was different than seeing it and Sam had panicked a bit, then sent a text to Mark that went something along the lines of “ _This might be a weird thing to tell you and it’s probably a bad time, but I think I might like girls. Can we talk soon?”_ He’d responded immediately, to her relief, and they texted back and forth for almost an hour.

Mags had been staying with her at the time, but in no universe was Sam going to wake her up just to tell her _that._

“Sam. Remember how I’m bi? I’ve already done the coming out thing, and I don’t think I would pretend to be someone’s boyfriend unless I really liked them.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

“Okay, fair. I would definitely do it now for literally anyone who asked me because fucking with people’s annoying families or exes sounds fun. But I’ve been out since college. I wouldn’t have done that shit when I’d barely figured it out. Not for someone I didn’t really care about.”

“Obviously I care about Mags. We’re friends.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

Sam watched the door of the convenience store to see if Mags was coming back, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t going to hang up on Mark when she’d been the one to call him, which meant Sam had to keep talking. Damn it. “Is it weird for you?” she asked. She had to ask.

“What, you having feelings for a girl? We’ve been over this. Hell no. You liking girls means I have never dated a straight person.” Sam rolled her eyes, and imagined he was making that grin of his, the one he made when he was proud of himself. This _would_ be what Mark focused on.

“And that’s obviously not what I meant,” Sam corrected, knowing it was probably best to acknowledge it now that she was on a roll of acknowledging things that she didn’t usually say out loud. “I meant, is it weird for you that I might have feelings for someone?” She didn’t actually mean to admit that, but Mark had said it first, so. It was fine. Yeah. Fine.

“Eh. It’s not like _I’m_ not ––well, we’re good. Promise.”

Right. Mark didn’t say his name, but he didn’t have to. Oliver the alchemist. Who was gallivanting around the world doing whatever it was he did to support his newly lavish lifestyle. Who Mark wouldn’t actually admit he liked despite finding a way to bring up his name in almost every conversation.

“So what are you going to do?” Mark asked, and Sam had never even considered that question. Sam worried about what was going to happen when they got there and whether Mags would regret asking and whether Sam would regret agreeing but she hadn’t thought to ask herself the important question. What was she going to do, as a woman with the agency to make choices? Sam sometimes forgot that she wasn’t just a person that things happened to. Sometimes, she was allowed to control the outcomes. After everything that had happened over the past decade or so, that was an easy thing to forget.

“Oh. Huh. I hadn’t thought about that. I mean, I’d thought about what might happen, but not what I might do. I kind of get to decide, don’t I?” Sam said, knowing she was thinking out loud, but Mark had been the one to ask.

“I’m glad to hear you getting all philosophical because I know that’s fun for you. But I just meant are you going through with this? You know what being someone’s girlfriend means, even if it’s not real. You know what it means for Mags to ask you that.”

“I know. I said yes, though, didn’t I? I kind of don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

“Okay, yes, I have agency, blah, blah, blah, thanks. I just mean, I can’t let Mags down. I promised her.”

“There’s your answer then,” Mark said, and maybe it was just that simple. She’d said yes because she wanted to, and she could change her mind if she wanted to, at any time, and Mags wouldn’t be angry with her. But Mags had asked something of her, knowing there was a chance that Sam would say no, but then Sam didn’t, and she didn’t want to disappoint her now. “I’ll let you go now so you don’t have to stress about getting caught being talked down from a panic, but you can call me if it ever gets too much, okay? I am practically glued to my phone, so I’ll be here.”

“Thanks, Mark,” Sam said. They said kind goodbyes and she hung up the phone.

Luckily Sam wasn’t left alone with her thoughts for too much longer. Mags exited the convenience store, and it turned out that Mags’s seriousness about her hatred of plastic bags still raged on. And like, Sam understood her point. Unnecessary plastic was killing the earth, and all that. But Sam usually equated that to bringing her own tote bag to the grocery store, or not buying plastic water bottles. Mags, however, took this to mean _I will never use a single-use plastic bag again even if it means I may drop things on the ground._ Mags had a bottle of cherry coke under one arm, a canned iced tea for Sam under the other, and she clutched several single-serving snacks in her hands. Sam quickly jumped out of the car to assist.

“Oh my god, Mags, let me help you,” Sam said, and grabbed Mags’s soda before it could fall to the ground. Mags also used this opportunity to hand a small bag of sour gummies to Sam.

“I know you said you didn’t want anything, but this is for you.”

Sam grabbed it, and then had no control over the smile that erupted when she looked at the contents. “I haven’t had these in years! Not since I was a kid. How would you even know that?”

Mags, now with more freedom to move, shrugged her shoulders. “I remember you mentioning them a few months ago. Thought you might enjoy it.” 

“Thank you,” Sam said, unable to express how genuine her gratitude. It was silly. It was just a stupid bag of sour gummies in the shape of sharks, which was objectively not that exciting. But the last time she’d had them had been with her parents, years before that worst last moment with them, and Mags remembering something Sam barely recalled telling her meant a lot. “Should we get going?” Sam asked. She grabbed onto the handle of the passenger door, but she didn’t move to open it up until Mags gave the affirmative.

“Yeah, let’s do that.” Once in the car, Mags didn’t move to turn the car back on. Not right away.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah. It’s just –– Sam, I’m so grateful that you agreed to help me. We’re halfway there, so it’s not like I’m going to take it back now. But we haven’t talked about it beyond that day I originally asked, and I worry that I’m asking too much.”

“No, not at all,” Sam said, but what a generic response that was. She needed Mags to believe that she was in this as long as Mags needed her to be. Sam wanted to reach out and comfort her with her hands as well as her words, but she held back. The desire to comfort Mags with touch was a new phenomenon, and not one that Sam had explored much yet beyond their regular goodbye and hello hugs, and the occasional couch cuddling session back when Mags had been briefly living with her. But they had been grieving and coping in extreme ways back then. It surely didn’t count. The time would come to comfort with her hands, she hoped, but for now she had her words, chosen carefully. “I wouldn’t have said yes if I wasn’t serious about it. You know how anxious I get. I wouldn’t have agreed if I couldn’t handle it, and I know you wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t think so too.”

“Thank you,” Mags said, but she had become fidgety, picking at her bare nails, then at a fray on her jeans.

“Is that all?”

“No, there was one more thing. This is what makes me, well, not nervous. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You couldn’t do that.”

Mags forced out a sound that Sam was pretty sure was supposed to be a laugh, but it was so strained. It was not the laugh Sam knew, and it worried her. “I know you agreed to pretend to be my girlfriend. The thing is, we’re going to be around people who know me very well, or at least they knew a version of me. And that version of me tended to be very _touchy_ with the girls I dated. I know that queer dating is new to you, and hell, it’s not like you’re my actual girlfriend, so if you aren’t comfortable, I get it, alright? I can just tell them that it’s new, or that you don’t like PDA. We can figure it out.”

Sam knew what this was. Mags was giving her an out. The safe choice would be to take it. To let Mags know that she’d never even kissed a girl, or held a hand, and that if she tried it all for the first time now, their act would be caught on sight.

But Mark had reminded her that she was also a person of agency, a girl who could make things happen instead of passively accepting her circumstances. She had the option to make a more foolish choice, but one that was braver, and one that would make Mags happier.

The Sam who had a voice in this world had a choice, of course, but in the end, there was never much question. To be safe, or to be foolish? Not much question at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from a letter written in April 1852, from Emily Dickinson to Susan Gilbert.
> 
> "I have thought of it all day, Susie, and I fear of but little else, and when I was gone to meeting it filled my mind so full I could not find a chink to put the worthy pastor; when he said "Our Heavenly Father," I said "Oh Darling Sue"; when he read the 100th Psalm, I kept saying your precious letter all over to myself, and Susie, when they sang -- it would have made you laugh to hear one little voice, piping to the departed."


	2. think of the vast unsaid

Mags’s parents weren’t home when Mags pulled into the driveway of her family’s home. They’d thought this a little strange, but then Mags opened up her text messages to see that her mom had left a message to say they would probably still be at the store by the time Sam and Mags arrived, and that they should make themselves at home while they waited.

The front door was locked, so the girls let themselves in through the garage. Once inside, they kicked off their shoes and Sam followed Mags up a flight of carpeted stairs. She opened a door and made a sweeping motion towards the room inside. “Welcome to my childhood bedroom! They mostly use it as a guest room now, but for this weekend it’s ours.”

 _Ours._ Right. Because Sam was supposed to be Mags’s girlfriend, they would be sharing a room. Sharing a bed. The bed was pretty big –– queen-sized –– but still. Mags and Sam had shared a bed before during those first few nights after Helen, and then a couple of more times at the end of Mags’s stay, but that was different. That had been because they were scared to sleep alone, and scared to wake up alone, so it had been for comfort and companionship only. There had been no space for anything else.

They had slept alone plenty since then, though. Mags moved back into her own apartment, and Sam hadn’t spent the night with Mags since. 

Sam didn’t comment on the sleeping arrangement, and Mags didn’t either. She could panic about this later. Mags just had a large duffle bag, which she tossed on the bed, and Sam gently rolled her small suitcase across the floor and pushed it up against a dresser. Sam looked around the room, which looked surprisingly bare for what was supposed to be a childhood bedroom. There were a couple of framed photos of what must be local beaches and marinas, and some trinkets on the dresser and on the bookshelf, but not much else.

“What, no embarrassing posters, or stuffed animals, or framed baby photographs?”

Mags leaned against an empty space on the wall as she laughed, and there it was. That bright sound that had been hiding under her worry, and Sam was glad to see a peek of it. Sam had brought this situation on herself, so she’d expected to be a little anxious all weekend, but she didn’t want Mags to be stressed. She deserved to enjoy her time here, and Sam would do what she had to in order to pull some more laughs like that out of her.

“Yeah, they redid the room when I moved out. Unfortunately for you, all physical proof of those embarrassing childhood memories has been put in storage. Either that, or long gone from some garage sale.” Mags said.

“Well, how am I supposed to tease you now?” Sam asked, half joking, but she also wondered what Mags would do if Sam did have an opportunity to tease her about her childhood idiosyncrasies –– if she’d be embarrassed, or if she would laugh along and tell stories with nostalgia.

“Unfortunately for me, the stories still exist. The stories that I’m sure my parents will be _thrilled_ to tell you all about.”

“I look forward to it,” Sam said.

“Don’t sound too excited!” Mags said, but she was smiling the whole time she said it, so at least Sam could find relief that Mags wasn’t actually upset about the idea. “I should warn you though. I love my parents, and again, I’m so glad you’re here, but I think they’re a little too excited about me bringing you. Don’t be alarmed if they are a lot.”

Sam didn’t understand. “I thought you’ve had girlfriends around here before. Surely I’m not the first person you’ve invited over.”

“You’re not,” Mags said. “I had a high school girlfriend they met, and then another during college that I invited to stay with us for a week over the summer. But I went to college in Boston and only came home during breaks, and then I stayed there after graduating. I haven’t brought anyone home since I moved out. This is entirely my fault, but I think they’re under the impression that this is pretty serious.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah. _Oh_. I guess the _pretend this relationship is new_ option is out, huh? Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Sam assured her, and while she wasn’t sure it was, it had to be. “I said I was in, right? I meant it.”  


“Good,” Mags said. “And I mean, we don’t have to kiss in front of them or anything, but my mom has texted me twice since last week about how glad she is that I’m bringing someone home. Stop me if this crosses any boundaries, but as long as they see us hold hands, or if you don’t mind some public hugging, I think we’ll be fine. Would that be okay with you?”

“That’s okay,” Sam said. Sam was trying really hard to stay present, but she was freaking out a little. Because the more time she spent one on one with Mags, the more she realized that her feelings were a little less _maybe not-so platonic_ and a little more _holy shit I like her a lot._ Sam looked at Mags, who smiled, and when she did, Sam’s eyes drifted to Mags’s dimples, and then to her eyes that had gone all squinty from smiling. It was really unfair how cute she was. Fuck. Maybe this had been a mistake.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” she said, focusing on Mags.

“I’m sorry, was that too much?” Mags asked, and it was sweet that she was worried, but it’s not like Sam could _tell_ her what she was freaking out about. _Yeah, no, I’m just panicking because I promised I’d pretend to be your girlfriend in front of all these people from your past but the thing is I think I might want to be your actual girlfriend. Surprise!_ No way.

Sam realized instantly that actually thinking about dating Mags was an even worse idea, because now she was panicking more, and she knew that back when she was in therapy Joan had given her exercises on what to do when this happened, but her chest was just so tight and her ears were buzzing and she didn’t remember any of them and she didn’t know how to stop. She hadn’t disappeared on accident in so long; just her luck that it would happen now. Good luck explaining that one, huh?

If she had to disappear, at least she could pick somewhere nice, right? Maybe somewhere she could be all alone, like the Scottish highlands, or the Scandinavian countryside? Sam tried to focus on a place she wanted to be. All alone, with a mountain range in the background, and maybe some regional wildlife she could watch. Sam closed her eyes, expecting to whoosh away any second, but then Mags’s voice was calmly repeating her name reminding her to breathe, and reminding her where she was, and Mags’s footsteps inched closer, and then the only thing on her mind was Mags, right here in front of her, the most calming presence.

“Can I – is it okay if I touch you?” Mags asked, and it took a moment, but Sam nodded. Then just like that, Mags was hugging her tightly, and Sam was squeezing back. “I’m so sorry,” Mags said into Sam’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to.”

Sam took some more breaths, and she kept breathing slowly and deeply until she thought she might be able to speak clearly. “It’s not your fault. I promise it’s not your fault. It’s just me having anxiety attacks over nothing, like usual!” Sam said, and she didn’t mean to sound so self-deprecating, but she couldn’t help it. How, after all this time, did this still happen?

“Sam,” Mags said, still holding her. “It’s not your fault. You think I don’t still knock things off shelves and throw things across the room on accident when I’m having a bad day? We’re human – well, basically – which means we’re not perfect, and we’ve been through a lot of shit, so it happens. I’m not upset, or disappointed, or anything close to what you might be thinking. It’s okay.”

Sam held on a little longer, and she let out a big exhale when she did let go. “I’m sorry.”

“Nope,” Mags said, “we’re not doing that. No apologizing for things that aren’t our fault. Okay?”

“Okay,” Sam said, and she didn’t know how well she’d do about sticking to that promise, but she’d try. For Mags, she’d try.

* * *

It wasn’t too much longer until Sam heard a door opening downstairs, and with it, muted chatter from Mags’s parents as they entered their home. This was it.

Sam must have looked as nervous as she felt, as Mags then offered her hand, palm up. “You’ll do great. I promise.” Sam swallowed nervously, but she took Mags’s hand, and held onto it all the way down the stairs. 

Sam almost let go when they headed towards where Mags’s parents sat in the living room, but Mags just squeezed Sam’s hand and Sam decided maybe she could hold on a little longer.

“Hi, mom. Dad,” Mags said, greeting her parents, and waved with her free hand. Her dad, a large man with brown skin and thick eyebrows, moved to get up from his recliner. “No, it’s okay. Don’t get up. We can hug later,” Mags said. Her mom sat nearby in a leather accent chair that matched the sectional sofa. Mags looked a lot like her mother –– they had the same medium brown skin, dark round eyes, and head of tight curls –– but as Sam hadn’t heard much at all about Mags’s parents until this week, she wasn’t sure whether Mags considered this a good thing or not. “This is Sam.” She smiled at Sam then, just a quick affectionate thing, and Sam mimicked the gesture.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” Sam said, raising her own free hand. She focused on the pressure of Mags’s hand in hers.

“We’ve heard much about you,” Mags’s mother said. This surprised her. _They had?_

“Let’s sit,” Mags said, leading them to the far end of the sectional, close enough to her parents for conversation, but far enough that they wouldn’t feel smothered. When they sat, Mags let go of her hand, but she pressed her leg against Sam’s. Sam hoped any blushing that may have been going on in her cheeks would just be credited to being nervous, and not due to her supposed girlfriend sitting so close.

“We actually hadn’t known our Margaret had been dating anyone, so when she’d said over the phone she had a girlfriend, I was a little surprised. But then later she clarified who she was dating, and you know, I knew you were close, so it made sense.”

“I didn’t know she talked about me,” Sam said, and that part was true. “You know. Before.”

“Oh yes. We only call to catch up every few months or so, but now that we know, she must have been captivated by you from the beginning. She didn’t say _much_ –– never was much of a talker about those things –– but I remember when you started working together, Margaret kept saying how capable and compassionate you were, and how much more she enjoyed the job with the new management and direction. I should have known that was just code that she had a crush.”

“A crush makes me sound like I’m in middle school,” Mags said, and chortled in amusement. Sam guessed it made sense that Mags didn’t deny any her parents’ assumptions, given that they were pretending to be together, but it was still strange to listen to. To think that someone heard about their first six months together at the AM, and saw something that hadn’t been there.

If they had been alone when Sam had heard this, Sam probably would have lightheartedly teased Mags about it, would have poked her gently in the arm and made a comment on how Mags had a crush, because they both knew it wasn’t true and it was safe when it wasn’t true. Except that they weren’t alone, and Mags’s parents were fully convinced that every nice thing Mags had ever said about Sam was something bigger and bolder than its real meaning. So instead, Sam sat still and focused on Mags’s leg pressed against hers, relished the heat and comfort.

“So what’s this festival? Mags said it was a flower festival, but hasn’t said much about it,” Sam said, unsure what kind of conversation felt safest, but sure it wasn’t that one. 

“It’s great,” Mags’s mom said, and shoot, Sam still hadn’t caught their names. They probably assumed she already knew. Well, that’s inconvenient. She’d have to ask Mags later. “Yes, a flower festival. The big event is the float parade, lots of beautiful floats decorated with flowers. But there’s performers, and contests, and art displays.”  


“And a picnic,” Mags’s dad piped in.

“Of course. And a huge picnic after the parade.”

“Sounds fun,” Sam said, and while the extravagance of it sounded a little overwhelming, it sounded pleasant. What wasn’t pleasant about a festival all about bright and joyful flowers?

“It is,” Mags’s dad said, nodding his head. “Margaret hasn’t been here in years. Who would have thought that all it took to get her down here was inviting a girl.”

“Hey!” Mags said. “I’ve been busy!”

“I know, I know. With that fancy job of yours,” he said, and Sam froze. Did he know about the AM? Surely not. Surely if Mags only talked to her parents in length every few months, she didn’t tell them everything. “So secretive that she won’t even tell us what it is.”

“Oh hush, don’t be so nosy. She works a confidential government job. What else do you need to know? That’s probably all she can say.”

Bless her. “So when does the festival start? Not tonight, surely.” Sam said, wanting to move away from that particular conversation topic as quickly as possible.

“Tomorrow morning. It goes through Sunday, but most of the festivities are on Saturday,” Mags said. That made sense. “When does Eva get in? I would have thought she’d be here by now,” Mags said, directing the question at her parents.

It took a moment for Sam to remember where she remembered that name from, but then it came to her. Mags’s sister.

“Eva and her boyfriend should have been here hours ago but their flight got delayed. Well, she says it was delayed, but knowing her, she might have missed it. Anyways, they land in an hour,” Mags’s dad said. He rolled his eyes, but not unkindly. “You have the room set for him, right?” he asked.

“The pull-out couch in the sunroom, dear.” Wait. So they weren’t sharing rooms? Sam almost spoke up, but apparently the expression on her face had said it all. “Oh, not you, honey. You’re adults.”

“Eva’s 20,” Mags added.

“Yes, and once she’s adult enough to have a job and pay for her own place then they can share a room here. But until then, pull-out couch.”

“Were you planning on picking them up? If not, Sam and I can go,” Mags said, and while she hadn’t clued in Sam about volunteering, Sam wasn’t against it. She’d only spent a few minutes with Mags’s parents, and they were nice enough, but she understood what Mags had meant when she said they were a lot. “Actually, I think it would be nice to show Sam around a bit before tomorrow. We won’t be too long.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Mags’s mom said, and before anyone could say much else, Mags stood up and offered her hand to Sam. “Come on.” 

They put on their shoes where they’d kicked them off at the front door. “Do you need anything? Phone, bag, anything?” Mags asked, and Sam shook her head. She had her phone in her pocket, and it’s not like they were going on a shopping trip, so she could survive without the rest, for a little bit. “Great. I just need to grab the bag I’d left upstairs and I’ll be right back.”

Mags really did mean it when she said she’d be right back. She was no Action Jackson, but Sam had barely had the chance to wonder what she was going to do in the entryway all alone while Mags’s parents were probably judging her from the other room, before Mags was back at her side, a crossbody purse now slung across her chest. “Okay, let’s go,” Mags said.

They didn’t do much on their drive. Mags drove through town, pointing out her favorite little shops and landmarks, like the old-timey ice cream parlor, and the graffitied wall where all the high school AP art students made their marks, and the pavilion where she’d had her first kiss with a girl when she was 15.

“Hold on, are you telling me that you used to be an artist? How could I not know this?”

“Hell no,” Mags said as they passed it. “I can barely draw a stick person. But I liked to look at it. It made me feel less lonely sometimes, knowing that there were people like me, feeling things so strongly they had to put them somewhere.”

Sam wanted to ask Mags where she’d put hers, but it didn’t seem the time. Even so, she hoped she had a place for them now.

When they’d finished their quick sightseeing trip, the traffic to the airport seemed endless. Was every college student flying home for this? A good twenty minutes after entering the airport traffic line, Mags was finally able to pull up into a spot on the curb. She must have texted her sister that she was on her way, because not long after, a girl with medium brown skin and box braids and an East Asian guy around her age were dragging suitcases to the car. 

Mags got out of the car to open up the trunk, but not before giving her sister a tight hug. She’d left the door open, so Sam could hear their greetings and introductions. Mags had mentioned that no one in her immediate family was Atypical, and Sam wondered if Eva’s boyfriend was. She wondered if he wasn’t. Wait, did he know about Atypicals? If Mags didn’t know he’d been coming, she couldn’t know to warn Sam if he didn’t know about them. Damn it.

Before Sam could get too caught up in her anxieties, Mags was opening up the passenger door. “Sam, come out here. This is my sister, Eva, and I guess, her boyfriend. Gen, right?”

He nodded.

“Hi,” Sam said, with a simple wave, and Eva just gave a half-smile back. Maybe she and Mags looked a bit alike, but clearly Eva didn’t have the same friendly Mags charm. “And Eva, Gen. This is Sam. My girlfriend.”

The extreme change in Eva’s expression would have been humorous if Sam hadn’t been so mortified about what it meant. It reminded her a bit of how Mark would get when he learned some exciting gossip that he wasn’t supposed to share. Eva raised an eyebrow at Mags, and they seemed to have an entire conversation without saying a word.

“I don’t speak sibling, so what the fuck is happening?” Gen asked, and Sam was kind of glad he said it so she didn’t have to wonder.

“Nothing,” Eva said, grabbing his hand. “Girlfriend? So _that’s_ why you finally decided to come visit.”

“Mom asked me to.”

“Mom asks you to every year.”

Mags shrugged. “Whatever. Let’s go.”

Among other reasons, it was a good thing Mags was the one behind the wheel, because the first words Sam heard once they got moving again would have thrown them all against their seats otherwise. “You’re an Atypical, right?” Gen asked. Once the shock of the question wore off, at least Sam’s question about him was answered.

“Why would you say that?” Sam asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but oh right, Sam never sounded nonchalant about anything, ever.

“Because Mags has talked about you, which means Eva talks to me, and I know you work together at some Atypical organization or something. It’s cool. I’m Atypical too, that’s the only reason I remember. Astral projection. I’m not very good at it though.”

“Oh,” Sam said, and relaxed a bit. “Um, I can time travel,” Sam said.

“That’s so fucking cool,” Gen said immediately, and leaned forward in his seat. “Where do you go? Shit, probably everywhere.”

“Gen,” Eva said. “Chill.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Sam said. “But yeah. _Everywhere_ sums it up.” 

The rest of the car ride was fine. The rest of the night was fine. Sam appreciated having Eva and Gen around as a buffer, as while she knew that she and Mags were still being watched, at least they weren’t the only ones. Because Gen was loud and snarky, and Eva was quiet and snarky, and all the space they took up was space Sam was not expected to fill.

They would all be waking up early in order to take full advantage of the festivities tomorrow, so while Sam assumed a regular evening here would include a little more lolling about into the night, she guessed everyone valued their sleep at least a little bit. Eva gently rolled her eyes when she heard her parents had set up a bed for Gen in a different room, on a different _floor._ She grumbled this to Mags when the three girls headed upstairs. “We’re not going to fucking do anything, why are parents _so_ weird. Like, they know I’m ace, right? Like, I definitely didn’t hallucinate telling them that?”

Mags gave Eva a _look_ , and Sam knew the look. It was the look that meant _believe me, I know._ They’d shared that look plenty. “I mean, I had to come out to them three times before they understood that I was never going to date a guy, so.”

“Well, I understand it,” Eva said, and it sounded kind of nice until she waggled her eyebrow and said _have fun_ before retreating to her own room.

“Sorry, Eva is, well. She’s Eva.”

“I understand,” Sam said, and then they faced Mags’s childhood bedroom, the one with three paintings hanging on various walls, two unsure girls standing in the doorway, and one single bed. _Have fun, indeed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from a letter from Jane Heap to Florence Reynolds; July 20, 1909
> 
> "And don’t get frightened over the little we can express – Think of the vast unsaid. I have always felt that I was a good lover; but since I have loved you I feel how utterly impossible it is to convey an idea of my love to you. Except, perhaps, by some symbol of beauty, of which great love is a part, it is nearly impossible. If I ever write a “pome” or paint a picture that approaches the absolute beauty then you may see my love for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Christmas 2019, my sister gifted me a book of lesbian love letters she found at a thrift store. All chapter titles will come from a passage from one of these letters.


End file.
